The Favourite
by shippingandsobbing
Summary: Kidlock! au in which Sherlock has a mental disorder (Wasn't determined quite which, most likely aspergers.) Johnlock ensues after John visits Sherlock and Sherlock drags him out to go, in his words: "Out. Somewhere." A little idea a friend suggested to me c: I tried not to be insulting or anything (in relation to the mental disorder) but anyway please enjoy!


Sherlock sat silently, his legs very gently swinging as he stared down at nothing in particular. Although his parents didn't like it, he'd taken to sitting on the kitchen counter. He didn't like sitting in the main room. There was always an aunt or grandmother or worse- parent there to try and initiate an awkward conversation. If he was in a particularly good mood he may have talked a little to Mycroft, but he had moved out around 2 years ago, and barely ever visited. Sherlock sighed impatiently. It was annoying that his best and only friend had to live so far away. It took him forever to walk to Sherlock's house. Just as he thought this, two polite little knocks sounded out from the door. He eagerly hopped down from the counter and flung the door open to a timid looking John, who'd probably been expecting Sherlock's parents to answer, instead of Sherlock. He smiled slightly and grabbed John's wrist, pulling him in.

"John! You took too long." He said, raising his voice, not to the point of a shout.

"Hah, um, yeah, morning Sherlock..." John stuttered out, laughing a little awkwardly. Sherlock let go of John's wrist and looked over his shoulder.

"Can we go now?" He asked. John tilted his head to one side.

"Where?"

"Out. Somewhere." Was all Sherlock replied with. John laughed a little.

"Yeah, okay."

Sherlock nodded, stepping into the main room for a moment.

"I'm going out somewhere with John." he muttered. "Okay?" Before there was any reply, he stepped away again. He pulled his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck, stepping outside.

"Come on, John." He simply muttered, gesturing for John to follow. He laughed a little at how blunt he was and stepped out too. He shut the door behind him, and Sherlock tightly clasped his hand. John blushed a little and smiled sheepishly as they began walking.

"Sherlock?" he asked quietly.

"yes?" Sherlock replied, resting his head slightly against John's.

"You barely even talk to your parents, let alone engage in physical contact, yet you're always doing this. You know, holding my hand, talking to me... I was just wondering, um... Why exactly is that?" He asked. Sherlock gave a small shrug.

"I like you best. You're my favourite."

"But, they're you're pa-"

"No John. You're my best friend. You. Not them." Sherlock cut John off. John just shook his head and laughed a little, giving up on trying to reason with him. He tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand as Sherlock moved his hand so their fingers were laced together. Sherlock liked John. He felt safe with him.

Sherlock smiled vaguely over at John, gently swinging himself on the swing he was on with his foot. Of course, he was still holding John's hand, and happily talking to him. But their conversation slowly faded off as somebody approached them.

"Well, if it isn't freak-boy and his little boyfriend." Anderson sneered down at them both, receiving a small laugh from Sally, who was behind him.

"Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend, Andy?" John asked, looking away.

"Don't call me that. And, unless you're blind, I AM, see?" He gestured to Sally, who gave a sarcastic, sickly-sweet grin. Sherlock gave a small shake of the head.

"He means your ACTUAL girlfriend, Anderson. We both know you're cheating on her." He muttered. Anderson shot a sharp look at Sherlock, and Sherlock stared back up, his head tilted downwards.

"Anyway, at least girls like me. You've resorted to going out with that little freak, John? I honestly thought you had more taste."

"He's not my boyfriend! You know he's-" he cut himself off before he said anything that may have been insulting. Sherlock simply gripped his hand tighter.

"Mentally messed up? Everybody knows that, of course I do!" Anderson scoffed, Sally laughing a little more.

"Go away, Andy. You're rude. And also rather stupid." John snarled. Before he said anything else, Sally piped up.

"Why do you want to stick around these two anyway? Come on, let's go." She tugged at Anderson's arm until he complied.

"Okay, see you later, freaks." He smirked. He and Sally walked off making quiet remarks and laughing to themselves. John squeezed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock looked up a little.

"You alright?" John asked quietly. Sherlock nodded a little, standing up. John followed along, getting up too.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock nodded a little again.

"Good." Was all John said. They walked out of the gates into the field surrounding the park, when Sherlock noticed John shivering a little.

"Cold?" He asked quietly. John nodded. Sherlock pulled him in closer, his arm now around his waist, undid his scarf and tied it around John's neck. John blushed a little and smiled.

"Oh, uh, I thought your scarf was for you only?" He laughed a little.

"I'll let you wear it, John. I trust you."

"Hm..." John smirked, before breaking into a sprint.

"John!" Sherlock shouted, running after him. John was laughing now.

"Still trust me?" he grinned over his shoulder.

"Oh god, when I get you, I'm going to-" Sherlock didn't get to finish before John tripped on a rock, and he clumsily followed on. John rolled away just in time for Sherlock to fall down next to him. He landed with a thud, and for a second John worried he was hurt, but as he rolled over to face John, he saw that Sherlock was... _laughing_. John didn't often see Sherlock laugh, and he grinned back at him. Sherlock grabbed at his scarf, pulling it half off of John.

"You idiot, only you would distract me enough to make me trip over the same thing as you." He laughed, sitting up as John did to unwind the scarf. He wrapped it back around Sherlock's neck and smiled.

"But of course I still trust you. Was that a test?" Sherlock asked. "Because it didn't even slightly tweak my trust for you."

"Heh, okay then..." John grinned. After a little while of sitting in silence, Sherlock spoke again.

"Thanks, John." He said quietly.

"What, for giving your scarf back?"

"No, but that too, actually. No, I meant for sticking up for me with Anderson around. It was nice of you. Unnecessary, but nice." He smiled. He was a little rusty when it came to thank-yous.

"Oh, no problem. Anything for my best friend!" John smiled too, standing up and offering his hands to Sherlock to help him up. He gladly took them and got to his feet.

"Best friend... I like that title. It's like I'm important to you." Sherlock smiled.

"Yeah, it's a nice feeling, isn't it?" John smiled back, knowing what he meant. Sherlock nodded, slipping his arm around John's waist again and kicking a few autumn leaves from under his feet. They were golden, red, yellow and EVERYWHERE. Despite the occasional crappy weather, Autumn was always nice. They strolled through the trees for a little while, perfect silent, just enjoying each other's company. It was warm and felt safe between the two of them. Sunlight was shining brightly through gaps in the treetops and leaves that had already fallen were continually crunching underfoot, and there was nobody else around. This was interrupted by Sherlock's phone vibrating.

"Hm...?" He pulled it out of his pocket and read the text.

"Oh, mother... 'when are you coming home'. I suppose we should..." Sherlock muttered.

"Yeah, before it gets dark." John agreed. They headed off back towards Sherlock's house, John being held tightly around his waist by Sherlock. He seemed overprotective of him a lot, despite the absence of any danger. He ignored all the dirty looks or immature sniggers around him and held on to John tighter. It wasn't as if he cared about all of those idiots.

Once they'd got back to Sherlock's house, his mother was cooking.

"I never even agreed to you leaving, Sherlock. Where did you go? Oh, and hello John." She said as she approached. Sherlock looked away.

"We just went to the park. I didn't get attacked, did I?" He replied, not looking his mother in the eye. John stood there, nervous and quiet.

"Ugh, okay. Well, I assumed John was staying, so I made twice the food. You are staying, aren't you, John?"

"Well, uh, my parents said they don't mind when I get back, so I suppose, if that's alright by you?" He asked nervously.

"Of course, of course." She smiled, the coldness from where she had been disappointed with Sherlock fading. She instructed them to both sit and set the plates of food out in front of them. John decided it looked okay, and he ate some. Sherlock, as per usual, just poked his fork in the food he silently refused to eat. After John had done and Sherlock had silently stared down at his food for a while, he stood up.

"John, we should go to my room. Give me the plate." John nodded and passed it, and Sherlock put it underneath his still full plate, putting it in the kitchen and going to his room. John, who was expecting him to come back, was confused when he didn't. Getting up, he quietly went up the stairs and in towards Sherlock's room (identifiable by a hand drawn "knock and wait (I'm probably doing something more important)" sign.) As he came in, he found Sherlock sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone, which was slowly transitioning between different colours. John had heard of this kind of thing before whilst watching a documentary. Some people with certain mental conditions like him found slow moving and brightly coloured things stimulating.

"What took you so long?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from his phone.

"I thought you were coming back." John shrugged, sitting next to Sherlock. Abruptly, Sherlock flopped to the side, resting his head on John's shoulder. John jumped a little, then smiled, gently slipping his arm around Sherlock's waist. He looked down to see him smiling, eyes half shut.

"Tired?" John asked, hugging tighter. Sherlock shook his head.

"I can't afford to sleep tonight." He muttered. John gave a puzzled look.

"Why?" He asked. Sherlock sat up.

"Follow me."

Although it was fairly Autumn, due to the fact it was late Autumn, the sun had set almost an hour ago, and it was so dark John barely even saw Sherlock staggering out of his garden shed, carrying a large telescope. He was too busy sitting on the garden bench and shivering. As Sherlock set the telescope down, John piped up.

"What is it you want to do?" John asked. Sherlock smiled in reply, tying his scarf around John and setting the telescope up properly.

"Look up. What do you see?" He asked. John obeyed orders and looked up. It was the most clear of nights, without cloud, the moon and stars shining incredibly brightly.

"The perfect night," Sherlock smiled. "I've been anticipating this for a long time." He put his eye to the telescope, adjusting the angle it faced, then gestured for John to come over. He got up and came over, and Sherlock stood up again.

"Look. Watch it." He grinned with anticipation. John looked in the telescope, to see bright red streaks of light lighting the sky.

"Meteors." Sherlock smiled as he saw John starting to grin. John stared up through the telescope and watched the meteors fly by. He moved away and let Sherlock look. He grinned, looking up through the telescope as well. The last of them flew past, and Sherlock's smile widened.

"Perfect. 15 in all, trajectory at 135° from the North and not a cloud in sight. Just as I deduced." He grinned, sitting back on the bench and staring up at the sky. John sat next to him, and Sherlock snaked his arm around John's waist, pulling him closer with a slight jolt. John smiled, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Hey, um, Sherlock?" John asked nervously.

"Yes?" Sherlock smiled in reply.

"I, um... I love you." He said, voice almost a whisper.

"I love you too. That's why you're my favourite." Sherlock replied, his voice just as quiet, wrapping the other arm around John and hugging him tightly.

On any other night, Sherlock would be so preoccupied that he wouldn't acknowledge anyone or anything around him. This night was different. This night, John was there, head half buried into his chest, hugging him exceedingly tightly and occasionally snuggling in even more. And though he often found sentimental things sloppy and silly, Sherlock didn't want the night to end.


End file.
